


he knows

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Emotionally constipated Geralt, Established Relationship, Incredibly wise Jaskier, M/M, This Is Sad, Yennefer understands Geralt better than Geralt would like to admit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: One day Jaskier doesn’t come with Geralt after a hunt. Once upon a time Geralt wouldn’t’ve thought twice about it, but Jaskier has barely left his side in… it had to be decades now. “Attached at the hip,” Yennefer had called them once.This is the story we all decided not to talk about. And I wrote it anyway.Established Geraskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 63
Kudos: 557





	he knows

One day Jaskier doesn’t come with Geralt after a hunt. Once upon a time Geralt wouldn’t’ve thought twice about it, but Jaskier has barely left his side in… it had to be decades now. “Attached at the hip,” Yennefer had called them once.

But this one morning Jaskier sleeps in--which is not unusual in and of itself--and when Geralt wakes him, Jaskier buries his face deeper into his pillow before sitting up with a groan.

“We should get on the road,” Geralt says, picking up their bags and swinging them over his shoulder. “There’s a nest of drowners a few towns over. If we leave now we could make it by tomorrow.”

Jaskier hums, rubbing at his eyes, then looks at Geralt and sighs. “I’m not coming this time.”

Geralt stops and frowns at him. “What do you mean? Are you all right?” He drops the bag and hurries to Jaskier’s side, feeling his forehead. Jaskier smiles and brushes him away.

“I’m fine.”

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve never turned down an opportunity to write another song.”

“Geralt, how many songs have I written for you? About you?” Jaskier’s tone and expression are light, but there’s something underlying that has Geralt on edge. Jaskier, however, looks satisfied with Geralt’s lack of an answer. “Exactly. I don’t know either.”

“So you’re… retiring?”

Jaskier looks amused. “Do you have any idea how old I am? No, it’s okay that you don’t, calm down,” he says when Geralt’s eyes widen. The phrase ‘calm down’ seemed a little unwarranted, but Geralt did have to admit a pang of guilt had hit him in the gut at the question.

“I’m getting old, Geralt,” Jaskier continues. “I know you’ve noticed and have just been too kind to say anything. I’m getting older and slower, and I was already at risk of being injured or killed while following you around to begin with.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Geralt says with a sense of finality and sits down on the bed beside Jaskier. Again, he looks amused.

“What, until I die?” he says, and his laugh is soft. Tired. He’s right, Geralt has noticed the bard’s aging. Geralt’s been doing all that he can to ignore it because he hates what it means, but he’s noticed Jaskier taking longer to get out of bed. Struggle to get on and off Roach. Forget his own lyrics. The crow’s feet at his eyes have deepened, and there’s grey in his hair. Geralt resists the urge to brush some of the offending hair out of Jaskier’s face, but he can’t. He’s still too afraid of what it means.

Jaskier shakes his head. “The world still needs you, Geralt. There are people who need saving, monsters that need slaying. You can’t be burdened by an old man like me.”

He’s rehearsed this, Geralt realizes. Jaskier has spent time figuring out what to say in this conversation, which means he’s been planning this for a while. For how long, Geralt wondered? Was it that close call with the kikimora? Or the time they were walking down the road and he tripped, nearly breaking his ankle? Or was he just so tired every moment had been a struggle?

And how had Geralt not noticed?

“Jaskier…” Geralt reaches out and brushes that grey hair out of Jaskier’s eyes. His throat constricts and he can’t say another word. Jaskier’s smile is no longer amused. It’s just tired.

“It’s okay, Geralt. You don’t have to say anything. I know.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand which has lingered on his face and brings it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “I love you too.”

Had Geralt not been a witcher, had he not lived several lifetimes, he knew he wouldn’t be so composed right now. As it is, he still has to clear his throat and look away. Jaskier swings his legs over the side of the bed and scoots closer, intertwining his fingers with Geralt’s and resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“We’ll see each other again. I promise.”

* * *

They do see each other again. One more time.

Geralt doesn’t know how long it’s been. He usually loses track of time, but it’s been worse. He’s not sure he could tell you what year it is, let alone how much time has passed.

Geralt’s just killed a bruxa when he enters a town no one but the residents know the name of. He heads straight for the tavern, just for a little ale, planning to leave the town after a few tankards and moving on to the next hunt. He orders his drink and makes to sit down in the dark corner of the room when the barkeeper’s wife stops him.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia, aren’t ya?”

Geralt grunts an affirmative, pausing a moment. Maybe she has a job for him.

“The famous White Wolf?”

Geralt clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have the patience for this.

“Your bard is here.”

The noise of the tavern seems to die away in an instant. Geralt freezes and stares at the woman.

“My bard?”

“The one who wrote all those songs about ya,” the woman says, nodding. “He doesn’t sing much anymore, but he tells your stories. Or he did until about a week ago. He hasn’t--”

“Where is he?” Geralt asks interrupts. The woman finally looks properly afraid of him.

“Upstairs. My husband and I gave him our room so he’s comfor--”

But Geralt doesn’t stay to hear the rest of it. He finds the room easily and bursts through the door, an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

“Jaskier! It’s been--!” Geralt stops, his heart dropping somewhere below the floorboards.

Jaskier, his little Jaskier, is asleep on the bed, unbothered by Geralt’s intrusion. The bed isn’t that big, but it still makes him look small. His hair has gone completely grey, and the lines in his face aren’t helped at all by the spell of sleep. Only his head is visible above the covers, but his face is pale and from what Geralt can tell from the outline of his body, his spine is bent and his figure is lean. How long has it really been, Geralt wonders. It couldn’t have been nearly that long… could it?

Quietly, Geralt sets his bags down by the door and goes to the side of the bed, watching Jaskier carefully. After ensuring he won’t sit on Jaskier and break brittle bone, he sits on the edge of the mattress and runs a hand across the wrinkled lines of Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s mouth twitches slightly, and then slowly, slowly he wakes up. He seems confused at first, like he doesn’t remember where he is, and his confusion breaks Geralt’s heart all over again. Then his eyes--they were dull now, Geralt realized--land on Geralt, and his face splits into a smile.

“Geralt!” His voice is hoarse and so very old, and all that pain Geralt had felt that morning he’d left comes rushing back, nearly knocking him out of breath. Jaskier tries to sit up but his arms won’t hold him for long enough. Geralt reaches out to help him, but Jaskier bats him away.

“I’m glad you came,” he says when he finally gives up and settles back down on the mattress.

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

Jaskier waves a hand at him, and Geralt catches it, staring at the visible veins and age spots. Jaskier tugs his hand away but only because Geralt allows it. There’s barely any strength behind it.

“I’m not long for this world, Geralt,” Jaskier admits, and Geralt remembers what the barkeeper’s wife had said. He’d still been telling Geralt’s stories until a week ago. She and her husband had given up their room so Jaskier would be more comfortable. A terrible shudder runs through Jaskier’s entire body, and he closes his eyes in exhaustion. Jaskier’s sick. And he’s at an age where getting sick doesn’t mean some rest and hot soup. It means… it means he’s not long for this world.

Geralt takes Jaskier by the shoulder as gently as possible. “I won’t leave you.”

This time, Jaskier does not protest.

* * *

They talk a little, when Jaskier’s awake and has the strength, but mostly Geralt sits in a chair next to the bed and watches over him. He takes the food and water the barkeeper’s wife brings, but he doesn’t eat any of it, and Jaskier only eats morsels. Somehow, he seems to get paler.

Geralt sleeps in fits here and there. He tries to stay awake as much as possible, just in case he’s needed, but he needs his strength in case he’s needed as well so he sleeps when Jaskier sleeps, one or two hours at a time.

Early one evening, after the sun has gone down, Geralt wakes with a start, something icy cold running through his veins. The candle beside the bed has died out, but Geralt can still see Jaskier’s form, and he can see that it’s still. Too still.

Slowly, refusing to believe his own eyes, Geralt stands up and walks closer to the bed. He wants to whisper Jaskier’s name, to gently shake him awake, but he knows it’s useless. Something awful tears at Geralt’s chest and he stops before he gets all the way to the bed, turning to the window instead. The town is still awake, but people are slowly headed to their homes for the night. How could they be going about their business like nothing had changed? Like the world wasn’t suddenly thrown into muted colors? Like the greatest songs would never be sung by the right voice ever again?

There’s a quiet whoosh of noise and then the click of heels on wood.

“What the hell did you--” Yennefer falls silent. “Oh. Geralt.”

“What are you doing here, Yen?” Geralt manages to growl, but even he can tell it doesn’t have much menace behind it. Yennefer is quiet as she walks to Geralt’s side.

“I could feel your grief.”

Geralt turns his head away from her. Even from the corner of his eye her stare is too much for him.

“Did you ever tell him?” Yennefer waits for an answer and sighs, long-suffering when she gets none. “Of course not.”

“He knew,” Geralt growls, but it’s less of a growl and more of a plea. Yennefer is quiet again before she responds.

“I’m sure he still would’ve wanted to hear it.”

Geralt turns on his heel and heads for his bags, still waiting by the door.

“Where are you going?” Yennefer asks, tone harsh again. Geralt ignores her and pulls out his swords, both steel and silver.

“You’re not about to do something stupid, are you?”

But Geralt is already out the door, down the stairs, and outside on the road. He heads straight for the nearby forest, where he can smell a werewolf stirring. He sniffs again. No--a whole pack of werewolves.

He fights without recognizing what he’s doing. His mind is still on Jaskier, body growing cold in that unfamiliar bed. He barely even notices when the last werewolf’s paw takes a swipe at his throat. His momentum drives him forward, his sword sinking into the beast’s body, but Geralt drops to the ground along with it. Blood pools in his mouth and he chokes around it. Yennefer appears in his vision, looking frustrated.

“Stupid, idiotic, imbecilic,” she’s mumbling under her breath as she digs in her bag for something. With the little strength he has left, Geralt reaches out to stop her.

“Geralt, I’m not going to let you--”

But Geralt is no longer listening. Jaskier is there, on the other side of him, his eyes and smile bright. His hair is no longer grey, and there’s only the beginning’s of crow’s feet by his eyes. His lips aren’t moving, but Geralt can hear him singing. Jaskier holds out a hand, which Geralt takes with less effort than it should take for someone who’s throat was just torn out by a werewolf.

“Come with me, Geralt. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> *ducks bread being thrown at me* Oi! Fuck off! I'm so glad that I could bring you all together like this.
> 
> (I swear to all that is holy, my next fic will be the fluffiest shit you've ever seen.)
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ loralielo


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